It still happens. Mornings that I awake to a sense of uncertainty. A vague uneasiness that wafts its way into my day. A cloud of self-doubt that hovers over me, encircling every thought. And as I kneeled on my floor earlier, I knew I must confess this return of insecurity. I didn't want the disquiet of my soul to be how I started this year.
I was taken back to a memory that was made just short of four years ago. It was a warm April afternoon and my Mom wanted to go out on the front porch. My father and I carried her and helped her into a small lawn chair. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer just two months earlier, leaving her frail and weak. As she sat on the chair, I sat on the step below, leaning my head against her knee. She gently scratched my head. I can still hear the crackling sound as my hair moved about on my scalp. The sun, peeking through the canopy of trees, poured it's warmth down on my head, increasing with the every touch of my mom's hands. I remember the profound sense that pounded in me "remember this Kim, don't let this memory go un-marked". It was such a time of uncertainty. I realized that this could be one of the last times that my Mom would be my Mom. That she would be mothering me. Comforting me. Touching me. Me, her little girl, sitting at her feet. No words were spoken. It was just the stillness of the moment. A peace permeated through the uncertainty as I sat there just being her child. It is a treasure I will always cherish.
And so as I knelt at the foot of the bed this morning, the Lord reminded me of the peace and certainty He offers. If I will just sit at His feet. In the stillness of the moment. Just being His child.
Psalm 46:10-11 "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah